The Song of a Poet

Death makes poets rife,
But death gives the poet life. 

The loves of youth make each one a poet,
But the children’s heritage inspires the poet.  

Teachers expect all their students to write,
But from within a true poet the words must ignite.  

From the hidden tree the robins cry,
“Record my purposeful song before I die.”

From the quiet cemetery the stones contrive,
“Remember our song while you strive.”

Life makes people regret their words,
But life gives flight to the poet’s words.
  
Fame beckons people to guard their words,
But anonymity lets a poet find the words.  

From the burning hearth the embers speak of,
“Sharing the best song with those you love.”

Health encourages a person to ignore death,
But pain gives a voice to the poet’s breath.

In a hectic hospital the air mimes,
“You are not alone in these times.”  

When the tide arrives at sunset,
Will there be peace or regret?

How can one look at silver water,
And not smile with a mother’s daughter?

Sin makes the heart miss the free,
But forgiveness helps the poet see.  

The sunrise calls with a new days notch,
“Put on your Father’s gold watch.”

It is not losing what is in the hand,
But forgetting what is in the sand,

That is each generation’s commotion
Of looking below the deep ocean.  

Death makes poets dearth,
But death gives the poet birth.    

By Alan T. Stokes  April 11, 2004

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This poem is dedicated to Mrs. Pat Seiter, my favorite teacher at Mt. Pleasant High School, who taught English and Literature with the passion of the sea.